


And Still Counting

by Krasimer



Series: Don't Take My Sunshine Away [12]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: And when the recall goes out, Backstory, But also, Even when Junkrat is angry and confused and upset, Happy, Headcanon, I love this little headcanon of mine, Junkrat is kind of in love and thinks Roadhog is pretty, M/M, Mako Rutledge was almost recruited by Overwatch before Australia exploded, McCree is somewhat confused., Pre-Relationship, Rated for situations and Junkrat's mouth, Sad, he answers -- dragging a very confused Junkrat with him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 10:35:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7754398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krasimer/pseuds/Krasimer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You wanted me to explain," he drew a deep breath, trying to gather himself. "I walked away back then, thought I could end the fight on my own terms. They gave me a communication device just in case I changed my mind. Recall went out and here we are."</p><p>The room was silent, Junkrat's voice strangely absent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Still Counting

"Oi, mate," the voice was sudden but expected, the younger man never could go more than a few minutes without rambling at him about something. "You gonna fuckin' figure out what that is or naw?"

His mask muddied the noise some when he grunted in question, but he heard it as soon as he focused on it. 

There was a beeping noise coming from one of the pouches on Roadhog's chest. He knew that noise, even though it had been over twenty years since he had heard it. He sighed, setting down his hook and the polish he was using on it to flip open the pouch. A small device was dragged out, Roadhog's eyes narrowed at it, his annoyance obvious at he inspected it.

A small message blinked from the top, asked him to decide yes or no on something he had walked away from decades ago.

He stared at it, felt his eyebrows furrow as he frowned, pushed Junkrat away by his face when he tried to get a closer look. So this was what happened now, twenty years later and he was recalled by the people who had once tried to recruit him. From what he'd heard, shit had hit the fan in a big way, the two in charge dying in a blaze of glory that would make his boss happy to have seen. If he was being called in now, then maybe...

Maybe it was time to go see what was happening.

He stood up, grunting quietly at Junkrat as he did. "What," the man (The boy, his mind supplied before he could stop it. There were no children in the Outback. Not anymore, not after every last inch of it had been poisoned.) laughed as he curled his organic fingers around the spikes of the tire he was patching up. "Where're we goin'?"

Rolling his eyes as he packed up, he shrugged.

"'right, if you say so. Don't like the idea of bein' so far away, though," Junkrat giggled, the sound high-pitched and maniacal. "You sure travelin' is a good idea, Hog?"

They stared at each other for a moment, Junkrat's face falling as his humor melted away. "Somethin' ain't right, huh?" he fiddled with his tire. "If...I can be better. I can- Don't want you ta go, ain't a life I can lead without me Hog around. Got used to you, y'know?" he shivered, his left hand curling tightly around the point where his right turned into metal. "Gotta do what ya gotta do, but I..."

He sighed, then reached out a hand and ruffled Junkrat's hair. "You're coming with me," he growled through his mask. "Get packed, get on the bike. We've got a lot of traveling to do."

Junkrat perked up again, his eyes gleaming almost wickedly as he nodded, shoving his bag back together. His peg clattered against the floor as he ran around, picking up the few things here and there that he had scattered. They'd made a temporary base and he hated to leave it but there was stuff needing doing. 

Places to be, people to kill, mysterious hero organizations trying to recruit freedom fighters to figure out.

 

~

 

"You gonna tell me what the noise was?"

He was sort of fond of the man, but holy fuck was he getting on his nerves. In the sidecar next to him, his mismatched hands gripping the edges, Junkrat was leaning into the wind like a dog hanging out a car window. His mouth was hanging open, completing the picture.

"No," he grunted back.

He didn't know if the other was actually listening to him or if the word had fallen on deaf ears. Talking with Junkrat was always a gamble, sometimes he'd be listening intently to everything you said and sometimes he would space out and forget he'd asked you a question, even as he asked it. Irradiation had made a ruin of his mind, the man had been all of three years old when the Omnium had gone off.   
Maybe he'd admit, if pressed, that was why he'd stuck around to guard him in the first place.

More likely he'd jam his hook through the neck of the asker and string them up somewhere until they stopped moving. He wasn't the sort to allow questions about his past, even if he had proven that Junkrat was the exception at times. The younger man had been told and subsequently forgotten Roadhog's name a thousand times over until the older man had given up on it, however, so maybe the exception was less...Exceptional.

"Yer a bit of a mystery," Junkrat's voice was soft around the edges, quiet in the way he only got when he was about to be asleep. Good, this being a crash day for his sleep scheduled worked out for the best. "Are ya ever gonna tell me why?"

He remembered a very different face staring back at him from the mirror once upon a time.

"No," he grunted again, glancing over to judge the turn he was taking. Junkrat was curled up in the sidecar, his organic arm positioned to be a pillow in a way that still allowed him to look at the older junker. "Go to sleep, we'll be closer in the morning."

"Y'should sleep too, Hoggy..." he muttered as his eyes slipped closed.   
Moments later found him snoring softly, his lips parted as he slept for the first time in a week. He was nicer when he was quiet, something about him completely different than his awake persona. In moments like this, he could almost see the person he could have been.

Jamison Fawkes would have been a good man, he decided, if Mako Rutledge had never been born.

He continued driving until the sun started to rise.

 

~

 

A thin hand held out a box of food, almost shoved it in his face.

"Here," Junkrat grinned at him, one of his eyes refusing to stay as open as the other for a moment, the nerves in his eyelid twitching spastically back and forth. "I know you ain't been eatin' lately, prolly all twisted up 'bout whatever it is you ain't telling me 'bout, but you do need to eat."  
Groaning in annoyance, he took the box from his hands, a questioning grunt following the noise.

"Yeah, made doubly sure they didn't put any meat in it. Had them right scared I did!" he grinned. "Hah! Should'a seen their faces, Hog, they looked like they might shit their pants," he shook his head, curling his entire six and a half foot frame back into the sidecar. He looked over the map spread across Roadhog's thighs, his smile disappearing some. "...If you wanted to leave me here and keep goin', I'd understand."

The older man heaved a sigh, clamping one large hand over his entire head. Massaging the space between his eyes with his index finger, he shook his head. "You wouldn't be sitting in the sidecar if I didn't want you there," he growled the words out. After a moment, he unhooked the clips on the back of his mask and slid it up just enough to expose his mouth. The small, delighted gasp from Junkrat made something in his chest feel warm and at ease. "Good," he flipped open the box and grabbed the fork inside of it. It was warm, it smelled like actual food, and true to Junkrat's words, there was no meat in it.

They'd stopped for food and refueling, and it seemed like Junkrat was trying to bribe answers out of him.

"You..." Junkrat swallowed his mouthful, watching as Roadhog carefully forked bits of food into his mouth. "You got the prettiest lips, Hog."

He didn't mean anything by it.

This was a normality between them. The younger man would watch when Roadhog ate, a stupid smile on his own face when he got to see his face, what little he would show. The tusk-like teeth had been something of a surprise, probably, but the bomb-loving maniac had seemed just as enamored of them as he had been by the rest of what he could see.

"You're so strange," he grumbled back, nudging his hand against the man's shoulder. "Finish your food."

Junkrat's eyes were still pinned on him as he followed the order.

 

~

 

He drove as far as he could.

When they reached the edge of the continent, he had to arrange for a transport ship for them and his bike, but it was worth it. His bike had dragged him through literal hell and back, and it was not going to be left in the wasteland of his past. 

It was loaded quickly.

Even after two decades, the people who ran the unauthorized ways out of Australia were still uneasy being there for too long. He didn't blame them, they had their reasons, he'd caused them after all, but it was still one more annoyance. There weren't any systems in place to help clean up from a fight more than twenty years in the past. Government employees were safe and healthy elsewhere, the lower class people of Australia left to rot.

'Full of criminals and nothing more,' he remembered one of them justifying at one point. 'Efforts will be made to preserve and revive..." blah blah blah, he could remember the suits hemming and hawing and bullshitting their way to re-election and eventually the whole continent was left to stew in radioactive juices for nearly a quarter of a century and still counting.

Junkrat was rocking back and forth in his seat, his hands locked together under his knees as he looked out the window of the ship. His eyes were pinned on the water, the rough waves that seemed to almost be saying goodbye to them as the ship pulled away. "Ain't gonna be the same, yeah?" he muttered, unlaced his fingers to pluck carefully at the shirt Roadhog had managed to wrestle him into before they'd boarded. He struggled with the loose sleeve around the joint of his mechanical arm until Roadhog grabbed him and rolled it up, tying it roughly in place. 

"Things will change," he growled, pushing the smaller man back into his seat almost gently. "Sit still."

"Everythin' is changin', Roadie. Me left fuckin' nipple it-" Junkroat grumbled when Roadhog glared at him, but he lapsed into silence. Their cabin was small, almost nothing more than a hole in the wall sort of a room, but it was enough space for them. It was meant to be crew's quarters but it had been converted into a transport room for the able few who were trying to escape.

For those who had money and working limbs of any sort, it was a way out.

"Get some sleep," his voice came out softer than he'd intended as he prodded one heavy knuckle into Junkrat's shoulder. "We've got several hours of our trip left, I don't want you chattering the entire time."  
"Not fuckin' sleepy," Junkrat's voice was petulant, a child in a grown man's skin for a moment. 

"Sleep," Roadhog shook his head and pushed him into lying flat on the bunk. It took a moment but it seemed that just lying down was enough to betray his words, his eyes closed before he could protest anymore.

 

~

 

The air was clean.

That was the first thing he noticed, the first thing he could tell immediately upon stepping out of the depths of the ship. The air was clean and through the filtration of his mask, he could tell the difference. Australia was like breathing in the scent of death, the ship had felt like being stuck in a tin can and being forced to breathe the same air for an eternity.

His bike was wheeled off the ship by a few crew members and he nodded as he watched them back away quickly and return to their ship. The faint clatter of Junkrat's peg on the stone was almost amusing as the younger man moved around excitedly. 

He had never dealt with cramped spaces well.

"Where in the fuck are we?" he asked as he pressed his hands against his back and popped his spine with an obscene groan before he fell back into his normal slumped posture. 

"Spain," he grunted. "Get in the sidecar, we need to go."

"Got'cha!" the giggle that followed made something in his chest tighten. "Why're we in Spain? Ain't a fuckin' thing I know, but Roadie knows!" he singsonged as he folded into his seat, jamming his knees against the rim of the sidecar.

Roadhog took a moment to turn to him and frown. "Don't scratch the paint."

"Feels weird here, air feels like somethin' diff'rent. Don't think I like it," Junkrat complained even as he moved his metal knee down into the sidecar, leaving his flesh and bone one propped where it was. "Too...Thin? Thick? Dunno."

Twenty-two years of breathing pollution.

He started the bike up, listened to the thrum of the engine for a moment before he started driving. According to the coordinates he'd been sent when he'd answered the recall, they still had an hour or so to travel before finding the base they were looking for. Overwatch had been disbanded a long time ago, he knew that. It was a matter of curiosity, an almost lethal sort of wondering as he'd looked at the message calling him in.

How many agents were still alive to be able to respond?

Just what were they going to find when they got there?

It had to be better than staying in the wreckage of his home and hoping for the best. Each day there was a survival test worse than the last. In a place that familiar with them, they were hunted both for their treasure and the bounty on their heads.

New territory, let it simmer down a bit, then return to what they'd left behind. It'd be safe until they could return.

 

The ride went faster than he'd even thought possible.

In front of them was the building the coordinates had led to, a few dirty windows shining dully in the dim light. Beside him, still in the sidecar, Junkrat was tinkering with a bomb base even as his eyes strayed upwards to look at the building. "A'roight, what the hell?" he grumbled, cycling back into one of his darker moods. Surprisingly, he'd actually been well behaved most of the trip here, had only threatened to kill one person on the way.

Roadhog pulled the device out of his pocket, pulled up the message and waited.

"Is this where you get tired a' me?" Junkrat's voice wavered but his eyes were pinned back on the bomb.

"No," he growled back. "Shut up for a moment."

A click of a gun behind him made him tense up for a moment, his muscles tight and ready to attack. "Now, ain't this a sight," came a drawl of a voice. "Seen the two a' you on wanted posters before, and there's not much cause to be here unless it's for one a' two reasons."

With a sigh and a roll of his eyes, Roadhog extended his hand backward, towards the voice. "Got the recall," a chuckle. "Thought I'd answer it."

"You sound familiar," the voice was closer now, a figure in the corner of his sight. "Who're you?"

The device was taken out of his hand by careful fingers, a confused noise the response. "I'm going to move my hands," he responded instead of answering the question. "Don't shoot."

"G'head."

He lifted both hands to the clasps on the back of his mask, unclipping them slowly. If there was someone on the ground, armed and ready to fight, it usually meant there was a sniper up above. Fast movements would get one or both of them shot and he almost prayed that Junkrat would follow his lead for once. 

Roadhog winced when the fresh air hit his face for the first time in what felt like an eternity. The armed man was standing in front of him now and he vaguely remembered him from his own recruitment. "Mako Rutledge," he grumbled, settling his mask in his lap. "And if I remember right, you're Jesse McCree."

McCree let out a startled laugh. "Yer damn right I am. Ain't seen you in a long time."

"Got busy," he could see Junkrat craning around to try and see his whole face. "Things went a little awry back home."

"Heard 'bout that," McCree raised an eyebrow at Junkrat. "Him?"

"Current employer."

"Less said about it the better?"

"Yes. For your sake."

"Could you tell me what in the FUCK IS GOIN' ON?" Junkrat snarled, his mechanical hand curling tightly around the rim of the sidecar as he stared between the two of them. His eyelid was twitching again and Mako sighed as he reached over to put a hand on the top of his head. 

"Going to have to talk to some people," he explained.

McCree put a two-fingered salute to the brim of his hat. "Welcome to Overwatch," he grinned. "Ain't much different than what I heard about ya from before, 'cept this time yer gonna help people."

"Rooms?"

"Yer gonna have to talk ta Winston 'bout that, but there should be some space fer the two a' you. We just went through some stuff, got some people back. If yer both stayin'," he paused to look at Junkrat, the soot-covered male glaring back at him. "Then I think we can find room fer you."

"Ain't fuckin' leavin' him with you!" 

Mako sighed before dismounting his bike and picking Junkrat up with one hand around his middle. "Call your sniper off before he makes them pull the trigger."

"Naw, he wouldn't pull the trigger," McCree waved him off, watched as he started rolling his bike off to the side. "Ain't got a trigger."

"How's that a sniper than?" Junkrat grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest before a panicked look twisted his face and he jammed both of his hands into his riptire to keep it from sliding into the back of his head.

"Arrows," came the almost-too-happy response. "Anyway, got a garage fer that to go in, if ya need it."

Nodding and rolling his eyes at his living cargo, Mako rearranged him so that he wasn't going to get killed by his own weapon.

 

~

 

When he got to his room, Junkrat was sitting on the bed. 

He'd removed his boot and riptire, both of them sitting against the wall as he glared at some random spot on the floor. "Explain," he snarled out when Mako was just barely through the door. " ** _Now_**."  
A deep breath made his entire body shake, the reality of the situation settling on his shoulders. "Move over," he grumbled, nudging at his shoulder. 

"EXPLAIN!"

He'd almost forgotten how loud an angry Junkrat was. "Move over and I will."

The air between them was stifling, a roiling sort of angry it hadn't been since their first meeting. After a moment, the younger man yielded. Mako settled on the bed next to him, his hands in his lap. "I was twenty-one when the Omnic Crisis was getting into full swing. Things back home were starting to get dangerous and...Bad, to put it one way. Absolutely shite would be a better description.

"I was twenty-two when they built the Omnium," he let out a huff of laughter, leaning forward and bracing his elbows on his knees. "We thought we could keep the war from our country, from our city, from our homes, but they didn't care about the lives lost. Nothing we did worked. People were dying, I was part of a Liberation, I was trying to make things better."

He put his head into his hands, dragged his fingers through his hair and undid the tail resting at the top of his head. "I was trying to make things better."

His hair fell down slowly, obscuring his vision. "I was twenty-three when an organization called 'Overwatch' came to recruit me. They sent a young man named Jesse McCree and a woman named..." he frowned, pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. "Amari. Ana Amari. They sent two agents to come recruit me, said something about me being a good sort of leader, good at building connections and maintaining a group of fighters. Me," he chuckled. "Good Leader. Someone to look up to and someone to recruit for something important.

"It all sort of went to hell with the death of the three in charge. Amari took a bullet to the head and was buried the following week. I heard about her death in the whispers of the people who were afraid of the war. Went to verify it, found articles confirming it and it turned out that she'd died a week after coming to see me. I found out about her death nearly two months late, which is also how I found out that the other two in charge were dead as well."

Junkrat moved, he could see it out of the corner of his eye. 

"A man named Gabriel Reyes and another named Jack Morrison. The leaders of Overwatch. Died in an explosion of the base in Swiss territory. Wasn't much longer after that," he swallowed nervously. "Wasn't too much longer after that when we started being targeted in a more thorough way than before. Fighters I'd worked with were being killed left and right and I was twenty-five when the Omnium blew. You would have been all of three years old and I irradiated the entire fucking continent of Australia.

"You wanted me to explain," he drew a deep breath, trying to gather himself. "I walked away back then, thought I could end the fight on my own terms. They gave me a communication device just in case I changed my mind. Recall went out and here we are."

The room was silent, Junkrat's voice strangely absent.

A bony hand nudged against his elbow, thin fingers curling into the meat of his arm and squeezing. "You stubborn...Holy Dooley, that's somethin'," he felt the top of Junkrat's head bump into his upper arm. 

After a moment, Junkrat's organic hand lifted up the curtain of hair hiding his face until he could see the maniacal grin. "Oi, Roadie."

"What."

"Yer mug is just as pretty as yer lips."

The laughter built in his chest until it rumbled through his entire body, the bed shaking beneath them and Junkrat nearly falling off of it. "You're ridiculous."

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Junkrat and Roadhog! How're you doing, welcome to the party, I hope you like being put through emotional gauntlets.
> 
> Heh...
> 
>  
> 
> Anyways, so there's an important thing to say and that is: The spacebar on my keyboard is broken. Writing is slow and painful without it, so everything is temporarily put on hiatus for now. August 26th -- September 14th is the estimated delivery date for the replacement. Hopefully it will come quickly, it's already been ten days since breaking, being upset and then ordering a new one. 
> 
> Tell me what you thought, what you enjoyed, if I'm doing any sort of good with writing Australian characters?


End file.
